I’m colorblind, I tell myself

whenever I refuse to look at the flowers

lined up against the cracked sidewalks

enclosing me into my boxes of gray destruction.

I cannot appreciate them without fully being able to see.

I’m just tired, I tell her

as she looks me dead in the eyes

sliding her warm touch off my shoulder

and returning to cocktails and loud laughter.

I cannot burden her with whatever is raging inside me.

I need to be alone, I text them

after three weeks of not responding

missing birthday parties and baptisms

all in the name of moving on.

I haven’t.